writing

Our Moon

 

I told the moon my secrets,

I poured out my fractured heart.

That next night I went to see it,

But only found the solemn dark.

 

A sliver, crescent, barely there,

With a shaking voice, I spoke.

Breathing words I never dared,

Letting darkness be my cloak.

 

I told her all my secrets,

Explained to her my wounds.

That night I lie there, sleepless,

As I chatted with my moon.

 

I hoped that somewhere, far or near,

You looked up at her, too.

As though I spoke to the shiny sphere,

My words were meant for you.

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